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Chapter

CLARA

Meeting Kaeso

Clara was either dreaming or in a delusional state. No possibility of an astonishing, handsome man rescuing her existed. That was storybook nonsense. As unbelievable as it seemed, though, she was smart enough to seize this opportunity.

This warrior was no slave trader. He eliminated her two abusers so fast she had zero time to blink. They had dominated her, unbuttoning their trousers seconds before lying in pools of blood. Clara watched the stranger tie the guards together and remove their heads. Wise move because detached Immortal heads and appendages dissipate before reappearing affixed to their respective bodies. It would take at least a few hours to revive as the anatomies regenerated from inside out.

Her head thumped against the corner walls, and with a long exhale, she slid to the floor. Legs numb, she pulled them tight and hugged her knees, searching for a comfort in them she well knew was not there. She squeezed her eyes shut and instructed herself to breathe before peering upward.

The soft light glowing from the only two candles in the room produced a telling silhouette on the opposite wall. The man was tall - she guessed around six-foot two - and with dark hair. Although he wore a long black coat, he had a visible lean, yet muscular build, and he was more than a fighter. Even after five years, Clara still recognized upper class. Many Fresian elitists frequented Death Cliff seeking surreptitious misconduct they could not get at home.

This man was different, though. At first, Clara assumed it to be pity, but it was a mix of concern, sorrow and anger. He knew that place was wrong, and he meant to do something about it.

When he held out his hand, she rejected it and stood on her own despite the pain screaming throughout her limbs and torso. Tortured almost daily, Clara never broke because grit was the most valuable asset she had. Forget faith, love, and hope. What kept her glued was sheer, indomitable will. Hell if she knew from where she drew that strength.

Clara asked for his name, and he was evasive. Time did not favor a question-and-answer session. She had to trust that he would explain everything upon fleeing the encampment, and that after five dismal years, a man would opt to help and not hurt her.

After donning the coat he handed her, she intended to lead him through the corridor to the staircase used only by slaves with servant duties. As they stopped at the door, however, a shorter man appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on in here?" The man's leer violated her, and her legs shifted into reverse.

Her dark-haired savior stepped in between and addressed the male with contempt. "Lyle."

"Yeah, and who the fuck are you?" He squinted and recognition lit up his fun house mug. "You're that guy from the Haven Inn. Oh man, I was hoping you would show up."

A smile spread across her protector's chiseled face. "And I bet you told no one about me, have you, Lyle?" The creep's eyes transformed into slits of evil. "Of course not, or else Duane would toss you into a cell of your own for telling me how to find this place."

"I don't need the fucking slave master and his stooges to deal with you." Lyle pointed to the hallway, and a fellow with sun-kissed hair ambled through the entry way. "Huey, time for payback. Man, I'm gonna enjoy this." He rubbed his palms together and winked at Clara. "And then I'm gonna enjoy you."

Huey smirked, closed the door and strode to Lyle's side. "Payback sure is a bitch ain't it?"

A smug grin stretched across Lyle's pug face. "It sure is."

Kaeso placed a hand on his hip, lowered his head and busted out a snicker. "Poor, pathetic Lyle. Always a few steps behind."

In a swift and deft maneuver, Huey snapped Lyle's neck. Clara gasped and covered her mouth.

As the blond male turned with a biting glare, her rescuer grinned and held his arms out wide. "Huey!"

"Don't call me that. That's a fuckin' stupid name. Fuck you for thinkin' of it, and fuck you for the dagger in the heart shit." He rolled Lyle's body on its back, unveiled a sword to cut off his now former employer's head and pointed the tip at her guardian angel. "We're gonna deal with that one later, Kaeso."

"But, Sam, you gave a phenomenal performance." Kaeso kicked Lyle's skull across the room and peeked out into the hallway.

"You barely let me get a sentence in before you killed me you son of a bitch."

"I had to keep it convincing. Besides, we already talked about this. You do not need so much dialog. The longer we talk-"

His friend groaned and spoke over him, "You're always the hero and I gotta be the muscle-headed idiot-"

"Excuse me?" Clara interrupted. Both men turned to her. "We are still leaving, no?"

Sam's mouth dropped open when he looked at her, and Kaeso reached out to close it for him, clearing his throat. "Yes, of course."

The golden-haired male's cheeks flared as he peeled away his stare and wiped his blade before sheathing it on his belt. "Yeah. Sorry. Umm, you two follow me. I know the way out."

"We have to get to the other slaves first. They are two floors down." Kaeso headed out the door.

Sam flared his nostrils. "Others. Two floors down. Sure, we can make time for that. No problem."

Kaeso patted Sam's shoulder. "Always amenable. That is why we work so well together."

Sam shook him off with a sneer. "Quit blowin' smoke up my ass, dickhead. I still fuckin' hate you."

They descended the steps on light feet, and Clara shivered as she listened for the heavy boot steps that often jolted her from her sleep and sent the slaves cowering into the dark corners of their cells. The swish of Kaeso's jacket against the stone wall reminded her that she had more fabric covering her now that she had in years, and it warmed her stomach. She glanced at his tight jaw and taut arms and knew he would die a hundred times over to protect her. The sweat on her forehead kept catching her hair, plastering it against her face. A way to tie her long tresses into a ponytail would be so appreciated.

As they stopped at the cell block, the stench of body odor preceding the unpleasant view of a lone guard slouching at the entrance crinkled Sam and Kaeso's noses. Sam covered his nose with the crook of his elbow and with one hand sliced the guard's head clean off.

With Sam as the lookout, Clara followed Kaeso to the cages. He inspected the first cage lock, took a small tool from his pocket and picked each lock with ease until all the slaves were free. Most sprang from their cells and lavished him with praise. Others, the longtime residents, required coaxing. The two only males among them stewed in a palpable rage, craving vengeance, and Kaeso did nothing to quell that anger. No doubt he would use it to help defeat any guards they crossed during their escape. The beat of Clara's heart pounded in her ears as she watched Kaeso and Sam convince the two males that escaping, instead of running into a bloodbath, was the better plan.

Within minutes, they moved in pairs to the stairwell, tip-toed five levels up to the exit, and slipped into the tunnel. The stifling, narrow passage stunk of sewage as they trudged through with the few torches they had and Sam leading the way.

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